Shadows Will Fall Behind You
by Hannaadi88
Summary: Vampires. Creatures of the night, who prey on the streets of New York city when the sun sets in the sky. Unless, of course, they're scared of the dark.


_.x._

 _December 1904_

 _.x._

There certainly was something different about New York at night. The click-clack of the horse driven carriages that mingled with the cacophony of multiple tongues would soften into single footsteps and low whispers. Passerby would swiftly walk by rather than linger in the street corners smoking and conversing with friends. Decent folk returned home from work as the sun began to set and spent their evening with their family, waiting for the sun to rise once more for their day to start anew.

At least, that was what Ivan assumed. He could never be quite sure what it was that men and women did during the daytime. This big city was very different from the small towns he was used to and he could only imagine the number of people who traversed the streets from morning 'till dusk. It would have been interesting to observe the day crowd, but the people of the night were more than enough to curve his appetite.

People were silent at night. They walked quickly and stiffly, leaning forward into the wind with their hands tucked snugly into their muffs as they made their way back home. These people who were unfortunate enough to travel the streets of New York at night tended to ignore and rush by any stranger they might encounter on their way.

This suited Ivan very well.

If his victim screamed, there was no one to dare investigate. If his victim struggled, there were none to witness their abduction. The night was silent, and so was Ivan.

It was after he had drunk his fill that the first sound of the night pierced the sacred silence. It was enough to stop him on his tracks and prompt him to turn around and look back incredulously at the one who had carelessly addressed him.

"Please, sir. A paper to end your day with?"

Ivan took in the scene: a young man, standing behind a newspaper booth, leaning over and trying to hand him a copy of the _New York Journal_. There was a desperate edge to the boy's smile that caught his interest.

The young man, seeing that Ivan had not brushed him off, seized the opportunity and continued before Ivan could walk away.

"There's an excellent piece on trade unions. I'm sure a fine gentleman like you would appreciate-"

"I'm not interested," Ivan cut the boy off. It figured that the first time a stranger would approach him at night in New York would be to try to sell him something.

The boy, however, was undeterred by his dismissal.

"Oh! You're Russian? Fresh off the boat, are you? That's a killer accent you've got there! My uncle Joe married a Russian last spring. Do you know how to read English?"

Ivan frowned at the gush of enthusiasm. What was the boy up to, asking so many questions? Volunteering unnecessary information, as if he assumed that Ivan cared? Was this how New Yorkers communicated during the daytime? In that case, he was glad he wasn't around to witness it.

He was about to turn and go before he allowed the chatter to irritate him any further when he noticed that while he was talking a mile a minute, the boy was shivering. Despite the night chill the boy was wearing nothing but a long sleeved shirt and a pair of trousers. Where was his coat? The boy was more of a fool than he had first taken him for.

"You're cold," Ivan stated, causing the boy to cut himself off and offer him a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, I forgot my coat before I left for work today."

Ivan shook his head. "It is night. No one is going to buy your paper. Why do you not go home?"

The boy lowered his hand and placed the newspaper he had been busy reading to Ivan from on the top of the stack and sat down with a small sigh. The enthusiasm he had displayed before disappeared from his young face.

"I can't," he confessed quietly. "I need to sell a few more papers before I can go. Do you think I _like_ sitting out here by myself in the dark? You're the first person I've spoken to in hours."

Wordlessly, Ivan shrugged off his coat and handed it to the boy, placing it on top of the bundled piles. There was a blood stain on the seam, but Ivan doubted the boy could see it in the dark.

"There's a dollar in the left pocket. Go home."

The boy stared at him wide-eyed as Ivan turned his back on him and began to turn the corner.

"Sir, wait! Come back, I can't accept this!"

He could hear a chair being pushed back and a pair of footsteps running after him, but he made sure not to be seen. He watched under the shroud of darkness as the boy finally stopped running and looked around in confusion. After what felt like an hour the boy appeared to give up and pulled on Ivan's coat, buttoning the warm fabric all the way up and nuzzling the tall collar as he slowly made his way back to the stand.

It was only when Ivan was back in his coffin did he stop to ponder his strange encounter. What on earth had prompted him to extend an act of kindness to a human, an annoying one at that? Was it the boy's blue eyes? Perhaps his dirty blond hair?

Maybe it was the fact that in this big, strange new city, he was the first person who had unreservedly given him a smile.

.x.

 _October 31_ _st_ _, 2015_

 _.x._

"Isn't this perfect?"

Alfred grabbed the edge of his cloak and raised it to his face, covering everything but his eyes as he skulked into the living room, cackling darkly. Ivan watched him from his usual place on the couch with the latest Stephen King in his hands. He shook his head as he watched, but Alfred could tell with one look that the man was biting back a smile.

One tended to catch on to these kind of things after spending over a hundred years together.

Reaching the couch, Alfred spread his arms dramatically to his sides and gave a large, toothy grin.

"It is I, lord Dracula!" he cried with the heaviest Romanian accent he could muster. "Give me all your candy, or I shall drink your blood!"

Ivan's lips betrayed him with a smirk. He closed his book and set it down on the armrest before crossing his legs and looking up expectantly at the man in front of him.

"What a scary vampire you make, _solnyshko_. Though you might want to work on your accent."

The large grin turned into a pout as Alfred folded his arms. "My accent is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I've been practicing." If watching every vampire related film from Dracula to Hotel Transylvania counted as practice, of course.

"Anyway," Alfred continued, "the costume is what matters the most. The shop had almost run out by the time I got there and there wasn't much to choose from, so I went for the basic and did the finishing touches myself." He gestured to the crimson stained shirt and the dried stain on his cheek. "Cool, huh?"

"How very ingenious," Ivan chuckled and stood up, taking a step forward to cup Alfred's chin. Alfred tensed as Ivan forced his head to the side and closed his eyes as he felt something wet swipe across his cheek.

"This is no corn syrup."

Alfred snorted. He opened his mouth to remark on the authenticity but all that came out was a soft groan as the lips on his cheek travelled down to his collar. He could feel Ivan's tongue lapping at his jugular before a pair of fangs grazed his skin.

"You forgot the most important special effect."

Alfred's arms quickly wrapped around Ivan's back as his skin was pierced. He tilted his head back and allowed Ivan to go even deeper, just the way he liked it. Alfred sighed and felt his body to go limp in Ivan's hold, knowing that the other vampire would never let him fall. One of Ivan's hands supported his lower back while the other hand sneaked beneath his cloak and squeezed his bottom.

"Okay, that's enough," Alfred said shakily as a few minutes passed and Ivan made no move to let go. "I don't want to get too hungry before the kids start showing up."

Ivan gave a noncommittal hum.

Squirming, Alfred finally pushed the vampire off of him, a scowl on his face.

"Oh my fucking god, if I need to go feed after this I swear you're sleeping alone in your coffin tonight," he frowned, turning around and heading towards the other room.

The twin puncture marks on his neck were still trickling blood and his complexion was considerably paler than it had been before. Ivan figured that Alfred should be thanking him for helping him out with his costume, but he was used to Alfred being an ungrateful brat.

"Bastard," Alfred muttered under his breath. He could _smell_ the smugness radiating off of Ivan. He returned to the room carrying a basket of sweets just in time for the doorbell to ring.

Alfred paused and gave Ivan a menacing look.

"Remember- don't you dare leave that couch until the children leave."

He didn't want a repeat of last year.

.x.

 _December 31_ _st_ _, 1904_

 _.x._

The warmth from the encounter with the smiling boy had worn off by the celebrations of the New Year. Ivan had never seen so many people out on the streets all at once in the new world and even he, who had observed the passage of one year into the next for far longer than he could remember, was overcome with excitement at the spectacle.

Artificial light illuminated Time's Square. Ivan had heard that the main gathering of the celebrations was to be at a church nearby and had planned to hunt for drunken stragglers in the alleyways, but the crush of people had led him to the brightly lit square. At first he had closed his eyes, fearing such intense light, but when nothing but mild discomfort assaulted his senses, Ivan carefully opened himself to the magnificence that was the twentieth century.

He had never seen anything like this in Europe.

The crowd and the music eventually took their toll and Ivan pushed his way out of the throng and into the street. It was only when he had finally reached an empty street that he realized that in the din of the fireworks, he had forgotten to feed.

Swearing under his breath, Ivan turned to return to the spectacle. He did not wish to observe the celebrating humans and listen to their chatter any longer than he needed to that night, but going to bed without the taste of blood on his lips was not an option. He had no wish to wander the city in uncalculated blood lust the following night.

When he turned, however, a hand stopped him. The hand was quickly dropped as Ivan raised his eyes to take in the figure in front of him, who had jumped a few steps back.

Dirty blond hair was clearly visible in the abundant light. Bespectacled blue eyes regarded him with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks, or perhaps the boy was simply cold. He appeared to be out of breath, his chest rising and falling beneath his coat.

Ivan blinked. Was this…?

"Hey! You scared me there for a moment, turning around just when I wanted to stop you. I can't believe I actually found you. I mean, what are the chances?"

Oh yes. He couldn't be mistaken. This was the boy from the newsstand.

The boy mistook his silence for confusion and gave a nervous laugh, running his fingers through his hair as he took a step closer.

"Sorry, I'm being rude, aren't I? You probably don't remember me, but I'm that kid you gave your coat to a few weeks ago. From the newspaper stand? I was on my way home from the square when I thought I saw you and I just had to see if it was really you. I wanted to thank you."

The boy offered his hand. "My name is Alfred Jones."

A little bewildered by the whole thing, Ivan took Alfred's hand and shook it absently. "Ivan Braginski," he said shortly, unsure as to why he was giving out his name to this stranger.

Alfred beamed at him and withdrew his hand.

"Well then, Ivan! Thank you very much for helping me out the other day. I don't have much, but is there anything I could do to return the favor?"

Ivan swallowed thickly.

That short but potent touch of skin on skin had reminded him of his hunger and it was resurfacing with a vengeance.

This Alfred was a perfect target.

Eager, young and so very close. If he took the boy's blood now there would be no need for him to return to the square and to the crowd. He smelled absolutely delectable (or perhaps it was his hunger settling for anything that was influencing his sense of smell) and wasn't the boy practically offering himself?

Ivan stood there, immobilized. It made sense to take the boy, not to mention appealing, but there was something holding him back.

"…Are you well?" Alfred frowned. He closed the distance between them and placed a palm on Ivan's forehead, the other on his own. "You don't feel warm. Maybe you need to rest…?"

Ivan snatched Alfred's hand off of him and held his wrist in his grasp, panting lightly as his eyes dilated. Alfred took a step back and tried to pull away, but Ivan kept holding on. He could _hear_ the boy's pulse in his grasp, begging to be sampled…

"Hey!"

In a burst of will, Ivan released Alfred's wrist and bolted, putting as much distance between the boy and himself as he could. He could hear Alfred calling after him, but he kept running, ignoring the looks he received by passerby. His heart was beating in his ears and when someone bumped into him in a drunken haze, Ivan pinned him to the wall and fed.

 _What am I doing?_

 _.x._

 _October 31_ _st_ _, 2015_

 _.x._

The candy basket was empty and the door was securely locked for the rest of the night. Alfred hummed happily as he set the basket on the table and promptly collapsed on the couch next to Ivan, who had obediently remained there the duration of the evening. If there were going to be any missing children ads in the paper the next morning, Alfred was confident that it would have nothing to do with them.

"That was fun," Alfred broke the silence. He untied his cloak and let it fall to the floor as he resettled his head on Ivan's lap. "I did scare that one kid, but the rest really liked my costume."

Ivan rested his palm on Alfred's neck and rubbed soothing circles against his windpipe. A little more pressure and they would bruise his skin. Just the way he liked it.

"I am happy you enjoyed yourself. Now I have a whole year of peace and quiet ahead of me."

Alfred chuckled. "Oh c'mon. I can't help but love Halloween. Besides, I'm not _that_ bad."

"No, you're insufferable," Ivan corrected him, but there was no malice in his voice. Alfred shrugged and closed his eyes, taking pleasure in the fingers that were now delving beneath his shirt and massaging his collarbone.

They remained like that for a few minutes before the darkness behind Alfred's eyelids suddenly became even darker. His eyes flashed open.

"What happened? Who turned the lights off?"

Ivan yawned. "It's probably just a blackout. The light will be back on soon enough."

Alfred bolted out of Ivan's lap and sped towards the light switch, pressing on it back and forth.

"It's not coming back on!" he stated, hysteria creeping into his voice.

"I told you it's just a blackout. There's nothing you can do but wait," Ivan frowned. Not this again.

"We need an emergency light. Where's our emergency light?!" Alfred dashed into the kitchen, rummaging through the bags beneath the sink. A hand griped his shoulder and if it weren't for the strong hold, Alfred would have jumped.

"I threw that ridiculous thing out months ago. We don't need an emergency light- we can see perfectly well without it."

Alfred yanked his shoulder out of Ivan's grasp and stood up, tears welling in his eyes.

"You threw out my Superman lamp?!"

He grabbed Ivan's arms and shook him. "How could you do that to me?"

Ivan growled and pushed Alfred back, pinning him face first against the wall.

"You're pathetic. You're a sorry excuse for a vampire. What kind of creature of the night is wary of the dark?"

Alfred struggled, but Ivan's weight against his back was too heavy to throw off. He took in a shaky breath and stilled.

"Don't be stupid- you know exactly why I'm scared of the dark. You have only yourself to blame!"

Ivan's hold faltered.

It was true.

.x.

 _January, 1905_

 _.x._

Maybe it was curiosity, perhaps it was guilt. Whatever the reason, Ivan found himself drawn back to the newspaper stand day after day. His night was not complete without seeing Alfred. He could never approach him- not after New Year's Eve. No, that was impossible, but nothing would stop him from observing the boy as he sold the last of his newspapers for the night. Nothing would stop him from making sure that Alfred made it home safely to his small apartment in the lower east side.

Nothing would stop him, that is, except for the boy himself.

"You know I can see you," Alfred called out one night after he gathered his things and pulled on his coat.

Ivan froze.

Alfred slowly walked up to him, taking step by cautious step as if he was afraid that one wrong move would send Ivan flying. He stopped in front of him and tilted his head.

"I've been seeing you watching me a few days now. Pretty creepy. In fact, if it had been anyone else, I would have called the police ages ago."

Every instinct Ivan possessed was warning him to run, but Ivan couldn't move. Not when those blue eyes were looking directly at him.

"I'm probably crazy for saying this, but I don't think you're an evil stalker. I think you're just shy."

"…shy?"

"Yeah," Alfred shrugged. "Shy. You don't know how to express your feelings very well and you want to be friends but you don't know how."

Ivan frowned. That couldn't be right.

Nevertheless, he didn't refuse when Alfred took his hand and offered to make him something warm to drink. It was only when they crossed the final street that he realized that Alfred was taking him back to his apartment.

"This is where I live," Alfred proclaimed as they walked through the door. Apparently he hadn't been aware of Ivan's stalking beyond his stand. "Make yourself comfortable."

Ivan took a seat by the small table in the middle of the room and looked around. The furnishing was minimal, but there were a few personal touches that gave off the feeling of a home. That was more than could be said about Ivan's current lodgings. Mausoleum basements weren't exactly what one would consider to be 'cozy'.

What caught his attention was a painting of a flower in the middle of the table. Ivan pulled the frame close as Alfred set down two cups of steaming tea in front of him. Alfred pulled back the chair next to his and sat down.

"Ah, I see you noticed my most valuable belonging. Isn't it beautiful?"

Ivan nodded. "Did you paint this?"

Alfred snorted. "No, I'm helpless with a paintbrush. That was a gift from a friend at work."

"Your friend?" Ivan had never seen another working alongside Alfred at the stand.

"Yeah, Liberty-Ann. From the main office. She's a secretary and she loves painting."

Ivan stiffened at Alfred's tone. He didn't like the way he spoke her name.

"This…Liberty-Ann. You like her?"

A faint blush stained Alfred's cheeks as he choked on his tea.

"What? Of course not! I mean, it's not that I _don't_ like her. But there's no way she'd ever settle for- Ivan?"

The tea spilled and the chair was knocked over, but Ivan didn't even notice the burn. He didn't realize he had moved at all until he found himself on all fours on top of a frightened Alfred, who was sprawled on the floor.

"Ivan, what are you doing?"

Ivan growled deep in his throat. The idea that Alfred pined for the affection of another was, for some reason, unthinkable. He could hear the pounding of the boy's heart and could feel his pulse beneath his skin.

He had to put an end to this. This boy was driving him crazy.

"Ivan, you're scaring me- ah!"

Ivan's fingers circled Alfred's neck and pressed down, hard. Alfred raised his hands to push Ivan back, but there was no moving him. He grasped Alfred's wrists and pinned them over his head. Carefully, he lowered his head to the side of the boy's neck and licked a long stripe up to his ear, sending a shiver down Alfred's spine.

"Shut up," Ivan whispered, digging his nails into Alfred's skin. "Just shut up for one moment and listen to me. I'm not your friend. I'm not shy. I'm not someone you should invite into your home."

Alfred cried out at the added pressure, but Ivan ignored him.

"You are an idiot who puts his trust in strangers, and you shall pay for it. You belong to me now."

He sank his fangs deep into Alfred's throat.

Alfred's screams of pain morphed into moans of pleasure. His body, which had at first fought Ivan's bite with every fiber of its existence, eventually caved and clung to Ivan, yearning for more.

Ivan's head swam as he drank. After stalking his prey for so long, there was nothing more satisfying than taking what he needed. Ecstasy flowed through his veins as he received sustenance. His body moved against Alfred's, searching for the delicious friction.

But then it stopped.

Alfred had gone silent. There were no more moans, no more screams. His body had stopped moving altogether and his breath, when Ivan finally took notice, was labored. Alfred's heart was slowing. Preparing for death.

Ivan's eyes widened in revelation and he tore away from Alfred's throat, swearing. He wasn't ready for Alfred to die. He didn't _want_ him to die. What had he done?

Fumbling, Ivan tore off his scarf and wrapped it around Alfred's wound, but he knew it was for nothing. The boy had lost too much blood. In a race against time Ivan did the only thing he could- he bit into his own wrist and forced Alfred's mouth wide open, watching as his blood trickled down Alfred's throat.

Ivan had never done this before. He wasn't completely sure it would work, either. It was how he had come into being, but what if he didn't have the power to turn? What if it only worked like that for him?

His nervous breakdown was cut short when Alfred's body experienced the first spasm of pain. Ivan sighed in relief.

By the time Alfred finished his transformation they were back in Ivan's dark basement.

Alfred, his _solnyshko_ , would never see the sun again.

.x.

 _October 31_ _st_ _, 2015_

 _.x._

"…That is irrelevant. You are what you are regardless of the circumstances of your transformation."

Alfred broke free from Ivan's hold during his moment of hesitation and bolted in the direction of the bedroom they maintained for appearances sake. Sleeping in a large coffin with Ivan was something that Alfred had grown accustomed to long ago, but there was nothing like sinking into a soft mattress and throwing the covers over your head to soothe your fears.

Which was exactly what Alfred proceeded to do. Underneath the downy duvet were piles of comic books and chocolate bars Alfred kept for moments just like these. Though without any light to read by, all Alfred could do was close his eyes and hope for the best. Even the chocolate had lost its appeal after a night of sweets.

The minutes ticked by and Alfred could slowly feel his breath evening out and his muscles relaxing when the blanket was cruelly yanked from over his head. Hissing, he scrambled onto his arms and legs but was forced down onto his back by a strong hand on his sternum. His heart was back to beating a mile a minute.

"You're misguided, young one," Ivan crooned, trapping Alfred's body beneath his own. There was no heat between them and he could practically taste the salt of Alfred's fear. Delicious.

Alfred frowned. His struggling was set aside in favor of his curiosity.

"What do you mean?"

Ivan grinned.

"You're not afraid of the dark. You're afraid of _me._ "

Alfred shook his head incredulously. While it was true that Ivan's attack in the dark had been what had triggered his paranoia, Ivan himself didn't inspire fright. Not in Alfred. How could he have lived with someone he was supposedly scared of for so many years? Love them? Share intimacy? It just didn't make sense.

"No?" Ivan questioned, tilting his head in feigned confusion. He leaned down and pressed their chests together, working his way up Alfred's body until he could see his breath steaming on Alfred's glasses.

"Then you should be."

Unyielding hands held Alfred's head in place as he assaulted his mouth, fighting Alfred's defense with fangs and tongue. Blood trickled down their lips, adding a spicy tang to the mix. Alfred tried to pull away, but no matter how much he struggled, he only managed to inflame the older vampire.

His legs were kicked open and Ivan slid in between them as if it were his natural right. And maybe it was, Alfred wondered as his costume was torn and his skin became littered with bites.

After all, despite the way they acted around each other… as his creator, Ivan _was_ his master.

.x.

 _July, 1939_

 _.x._

Alfred looked blankly at the package.

"What is it?"

"Open it and find out," Ivan said brusquely, setting down his bags on the counter and turning to settle in his armchair with the daily paper. Alfred continued to eye the package suspiciously from his corner on the couch.

Ivan frowned.

"It isn't an organ, if that's what you're worried about. I've learned my lesson from last time. Go on."

"Why should I be accepting gifts from you, of all people?"

"Let me think. Oh, maybe because you don't _have_ anyone else to take care of you? Not to mention you're incapable of doing so yourself. You saw how much good your temper tantrum did you. Alone for three months before you caved in. You have no one else to turn to and you know it."

"Alright, alright! I get it. No need to rub it in, jeez," Alfred rolled his eyes. He approached the package and after one last critical look, he picked it up and tore through the brown paper. The content startled him.

A comic book?

"What is this?"

"You can read. Use your eyes."

Huffing, Alfred studied the cover. A man with a black cape. On the top he read in large letters.

"Batman?"

Ivan nodded. "Yes. I saw it at the newspaper stand when I bought my paper and thought you might enjoy it. He's part of a new superhero series."

He watched as Alfred sat down and started to turn the pages, eyes widening every few minutes as he took it all in. Ivan smiled to himself.

When he had seen the issue on top of the newspapers, Ivan knew that he had stumbled across something special. Men associated with bats had always been persecuted with pitchforks and flames in Europe, but here was a man who dressed as a bat and served justice at night.

He just knew Alfred was meant to read it.

And read it he did. By the time he was finished, Alfred's eyes glistened with excitement.

Gone was the sulky, guilty vampire. Alfred now had a purpose.

That night was the first night Alfred had agreed to sleep in Ivan's coffin.

.x.

 _October 31_ _st_ _, 2015_

 _.x._

"…Ivan?"

"Yes?"

Alfred raised his head from the vampire's chest and looked up. His hand was busy tracing shapes into Ivan's skin.

"You don't really think that I'm pathetic, right?"

Ivan sighed. He lifted his hand and carded his fingers through Alfred's hair, lowering them down to the nape of his neck and massaging the tense muscles.

"No. I would never keep someone I considered pathetic by my side."

Alfred bit his lip tentatively.

"Even though I'm scared of the dark?"

Chuckling, Ivan ruffled Alfred's hair and returned his hand to where it had been before, supporting the boy's shoulder.

"Especially because you're afraid of the dark. What other time would I have you running into my arms for protection so willingly?"

Alfred remembered their evening quite differently, but all he did was shake his head and settle back on top of Ivan, humming idly as he tried not to let sleep overcome him. It would be embarrassing to have Ivan carry him back to the coffin before daylight _again._

It was still frightening to think about the other creatures who populated the night, preying on the weak. If he and Ivan existed, what else was out there? Someone stronger, someone sharing their hunger?

There was no reason to fear the unknown, Alfred reminded himself. There was no point.

Not when he had Ivan to protect him from all things- including his imagination. And who knew? Maybe one day he'd learn to fight his demons all on his own.

God knew he had time.

* * *

This piece was commissioned by my friend, gaslampghost. I do hope I've done justice to your prompt. If anyone else would like to commission me, feel free to check out my tumblr blog (hannaadi88) for more information. Thank you for reading!


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